Small Eternities Chapter 6: A New Eternity, a voltron fanfic

AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION

Well, here we are. This is it. The ninth inning. The final quarter. The swan song. The end of my epic. What some faithful readers (including me) have been waiting for for almost five years. Please excuse me if I get a bit weepy.

First off, I want to thank everyone who's ever read this story, especially those who saw it in its infancy; I hope some of you are reading this, and I'm sorry to make you wait so long. But I told you I'd get here someday!

This story has been more than a labor of love for me; it has taken on a life of its own. Even when I wasn't writing, "Small Eternities" breathed inside me, waiting patiently to be cut loose. I confess to being sad to see it go.

Secondly, no death threats, please! I've known for years how the story ended; it was just recently that I figured out how it got there. I could no more change it than I could rewrite history. Be a responsible reader and prepare yourself.

SMALL ETERNITIES: FINAL CHAPTER

A NEW ETERNITY

By Cyanne (Saturn Girl)

~One Year Later~

Princess Allura sat at her mirrored dressing table, staring at her reflection in wonder. The waiting was over. This was the day, the one she'd been waiting for since she was a little girl, although not in these precise circumstances. Strange how, after all that had happened, she could still recognize herself in the mirror. It would have seemed more appropriate to see a stranger gazing back at her, someone she was just beginning to know. But aside from a certain narrowness to the face, the result of a year's worth of hard work and training, her own bright eyes blinked back at her, the same tendrils of golden hair curled around her face in the new, shorter style she'd become used to. The outfit was different, of course, not pink but white, and she wore more makeup than usual. But she was still Allura, crown princess of Arus, still ready to take on the universe at its beckoning.

Restlessly, she felt she should be doing something other than this during these last few moments to herself. Any moment now they would be knocking at her door; she should smooth her hair, dab more color on her lips, take a last look at her childhood surroundings before she left them behind forever. But instead she sat in front of her mirror, staring at herself, trying to read the changes in her face and finding none.

She glanced at the clock, to distract herself. The ceremony was due to begin in fifteen minutes. Shouldn't I be nervous? she wondered. Palms sweating? Crying? Something? But she had never felt so cool and calm in her life. Even after all this time, it didn't seem fair, to be so unaffected by everything. But then, the events of last year had had a way of drying up almost everything emotional that remained within her.

She carefully censored her thoughts from venturing any further in that direction. It had been hard, but she had trained herself not to think about what had happened as a tragedy. Thinking like that made it difficult to get up in the morning, to take care of what needed to be done. She knew better than that, now. She'd learned to focus on the present.

After six months of rebuilding, the Castle of Lions was finally whole once more. The hole that had been ripped in the east tower had been repaired, the damage to the computers and outer defenses had been patched, and a new, reinforced plating had been applied to the exterior. The horrible image of the Castle aflame, crumbling before their eyes, was only a memory now. Now the Castle literally shone, reflecting its old glory in the summer sunlight. They had been broken, but not beaten.

I can offer myself as proof of that, she thought, reaching to touch her shoulder length locks. Everyone had been so shocked when she'd cut it off (she could still hear Nanny's wail: "Princesses do not have short hair!"). But once it was done, Allura knew it had been the right thing to do. Princesses were supposed to have long, flowing hair; pilots on the other hand, kept it relatively short so it fit underneath helmets. And the pilot and the princess had finally parted ways.

The knock came, startling her. "Come in."

Right on schedule, it was Lance, crisp and clean in his dress uniform. "Ready for the big day?" he asked softly.

Allura took one last look in the mirror and nodded. "I'm ready." She rose and faced him, then stopped short at the expression on his face. "Lance, what is it?"

He was looking at her so oddly, searching her face much as she had just been doing.

"Lance?"

He blinked a few times and collected himself. "Nothing. You look beautiful."

"Thank you."

"Shall we?" He offered his right arm, the one that had been injured. He'd only recently been cleared to fly with it. She took it, gingerly.

Lance and Allura made their way out into the hallway, their footsteps echoing only faintly against the now-constant sounds of reconstruction. In addition to the repairs, Allura had ordered the entire Castle restructured and reinforced to prevent such damage from ever occurring again. The near-destruction of the Castle had been as much of a shock to the people of Arus as it had been to the Voltron Force; their sovereign was determined that they were never to be so frightened again. The Castle of Lions would always stand strong for them from now on.

As they walked, Allura discreetly watched Lance out of the corner of her eye. Like everyone, he'd emerged from the crisis somewhat worse for the wear. Allura thought he looked thinner, but then again it was hard to tell with Lance; he'd always been reed-slim, despite his normal boyish appetite. How had the past year affected him? She'd been so busy, she'd had no time to see how the loss was affecting her teammates.

"How's your arm?" she asked, to break the silence.

She expected him to scoff, as was his way. But he seemed to consider the question seriously. Lance's right arm had been crushed against a wall when the Castle was hit. There had been multiple fractures; for a while, they had been afraid he'd lose it, but Lance's body seemed as capable of rebuilding itself as the Castle of Lions. We are all healing better than we thought we could, she thought.

"A little achy today, actually," Lance replied, sounding concerned. "It's weird; Dr. Gorma said it's completely healed, but when I woke up this morning, it began to hurt again."

Allura had to bite down on her lip. It was suddenly hard to keep her emotions in check. She'd also felt pain upon waking today, but it had not been a pain she could locate in any one body part. It was almost as if her soul ached. But she could not think of that now.

The ceremony was to be held at the Lion Monument, a section of the Castle Gardens dedicated to King Alfor and his lion creations. It was nearly noon, the air warm and dry; the Arusian summer was waning. It was only to be a small gathering, just Allura's closest friends. As she and Lance approached the group, they stood up straighter, immaculate in their white dress uniforms, identical to the one Lance wore. She smiled at her guests from Galaxy Garrison, Jeff and Ginger, who had arrived from Earth the previous night, then her smile faded as she remembered the one who was missing.

Cyann's punishment for her involvement with Aldran had been harsh. She had been found guilty of second-degree treason and conspiracy, stripped of her rank, and sentenced to ten years exile outside the boundaries of the Alliance. Upon return, she could never work for Galaxy Garrison again. The Space Marshal's sentence had been even more severe. He was found guilty of high treason and conspiracy, and also stripped of his rank and exiled. However, his exile was to be permanent. And the penalty for violation of criminal exile was death. The man could never set foot on an Alliance planet again.

Cyann had had one week to settle her affairs, including one visit, via the long-range comm, to say goodbye to her friends on Arus, before she was deported. Though Allura could not argue with Garrison politics regarding this level of crime, she still wished that Cyann could have been there to witness the ceremony. Despite all that had happened, Allura knew Cyann would have wanted to be present.

In the center of the garden, surrounded by statues of the five Lions, a dais had been constructed. Koran was waiting for her there. Lance let go of Allura as she reached the steps, and Ginger stepped forward to clasp her hand; he two women exchanged a brief smile. Then Allura ascended alone.

"Koran," she said, touching him lightly on the arm.

The old man smiled and turned at the sound of her voice, but his eyes gazed sightlessly beyond her. Allura squeezed his arm. Koran had recovered from his stroke, but at a price.

"Are you ready, my dear?" he whispered to her.

"Yes," said Allura.

Koran cleared his throat and faced the crowd, though he could not see them. "I thank you all for being here. We have gathered you together to witness the birth of a new union, a union that will safeguard our planet and our peace in this new era."

He faced Allura. "Do you, Princess Allura Azhura Alielyonne, come here of your own free will to accept the position of pilot of Black Lion and commander-in-chief of the Voltron Force?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to fight honorably and valiantly in the name of your late father, King Alfor, and of the Planet Arus?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to uphold the proper conduct befitting an officer of the Galaxy Alliance?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to protect the innocent and the brave, and fight for universal freedom?"

"I do."

"Then I, Koran, on behalf of the Royal House of Alielyonne, do hereby present you with the key to the Black Lion, and with it, the secret--and the heart--of Voltron."

Allura bent on one knee, then rose and accepted the key that Koran held out.

"Members of the Voltron Force," Koran went on, gesturing for Allura to turn and face the crowd, "I present to you your captain: Captain Allura Alielyonne!"

~Later~

Allura knelt on the grass, which was warm under her knees. It was so peaceful here, in the waning summer sunlight, that she wished she did not have to go back to Castle that night, that she could stay here, and sleep under the stars as she had when she was a little girl. But tonight was the formal ceremony, in front of the people, that would recognize her as captain of the Voltron Force and pilot of Black Lion.

Allura had excused herself as soon as the garden ceremony was over, with the explanation that she wanted time to prepare for the public ceremony. But in reality, she had a private rite of her own to perform.

Allura listened to the soft sound the wind made as it stirred the grasses surrounding her. It was that perfect moment between afternoon and evening, when the sky was still bright, but the breezes were cooling slightly, and the night birds were just beginning to stir. She'd always loved this time of day, when you could smell the change in the air, and the world seemed to hold itself still. She lifted the flowers she had brought to her face, inhaling the heady scent. Then she spoke the words.

"To my captain, to my friend, to my love," she began in the hushed summer stillness. "To you, Keith."

And she set the flowers on the grave.

She had let herself cry only once since it happened, but suddenly, her eyes were spilling over without her conscious acknowledgement. Still, she kept her head bowed and continued.

"You once told me that a soldier must be prepared to lay down his life for his cause, that he should find fulfillment in that and nothing more. You are my cause, Keith, and in your memory I will be prepared."

She paused, and reached out to caress the weathered stone, only a year old, yet already worn. She traced the words, in English and the ancient Arusian script, that spelled out Keith's full name.

She'd insisted that he be buried on Arus, citing that he'd had no family on Earth to claim his remains. But in truth, she wanted him near her; it was her one consolation that now, no one would take him from her. Had he survived, he would have had to return to Galaxy Garrison; his contract with them would not expire for several years. Though she would have much preferred losing Keith to Galaxy Garrison than to this, he had died for Arus, and on Arus he would remain. No one had argued with her; it had been obvious to all where Keith's heart had belonged.

From the inner pocket of her uniform, Allura removed a many-times-folded leaf of paper. Keith's last words to her had been wrapped around the key to the Black Lion, slipped into her pocket as they spoke what would become their last words to each other in the hangar. She'd found it a month later, and only then did she remember it happening. She'd read it so many times now that she had it memorized, but it was comforting to keep it with her; it made things less scary and new, to always have Keith's blessings near her heart.

But this was not Keith. This was only a stone, stuck in the ground. She'd come to the wrong place to make peace with his memory. Her Keith would not have been confined to an ornate monument. She needed to look elsewhere to find his blessing for what she was about to undertake. She needed to be closer to him, on this most important of days. And there was only one place she could find that, the one place that would forever harbor his soul.

Black Lion.

It was so much bigger inside than the Blue Lion, so much more equipment, so much more to monitor and control. It was no small responsibility she had taken on that afternoon. In addition to being larger than the other lions, the Black Lion was capable, once they had formed Voltron, of operating each lion's individual offenses and defenses, something Allura had learned the hard way many years ago; she smiled faintly to recall the incident. She had only just recovered from a bad fall in the Blue Lion, and they had been surprised during practice by a sudden skirmish with Lotor. Worried for her safety, Keith had used his privilege and remotely switched off her lion controls, saying she was still too injured to fly. How indignant she had been!

Indignant? More like livid, and on the verge of crying like the little girl I was. She knew now that Keith had realized that Lotor would be targeting her, and didn't want her to reinjure herself or risk capture by participating in combat before she was fully healed, but at the time she'd been furious. Lotor had ended up capturing her anyway, and she'd had a chance to prove herself, but she had learned something about Keith that day. The safety of his teammates sometimes meant more to him than making the right call in a tense situation. She knew that he'd torn himself apart when she'd been captured. But in his place, she knew she'd have done the same.

Keith had told her many times, in many different ways over the years, that being a captain was a much harder job than she thought. You had to think in both the present and the future, to be able to foresee things that hadn't happened and plan for them if they did. You had to make unpopular--and sometimes unbearable--decisions, deal with the possibility of outright mutiny from your subordinates, and be strong enough to hold your own and keep them with you. You had to be fearless, and also take responsibility for your actions, and those of your team. Someone had to.

And now that someone is me.

Allura,

I'm sorry to write this in secret, while you sleep, but there's something I've been meaning to say to you since I returned to Arus. Forgive me for waiting so long to say this; I keep waiting for the right moment, for it to be special. But with all that's happened, I'm running out of time, and I don't want to run the risk that these words might remain unsaid.

Remember all those times you asked me to train you in Black Lion? And I always brushed you off? I know those words sounded harsh, but I hope you can understand now why I had to say them, when so much time has passed, and you have grown so much. You were so eager to learn then, I longed to teach you, but I knew it wasn't time. I don't know how I knew; if I call it captain's instinct you'll pout your lips and think I'm patronizing you. I guess I'm good at that. But I want you to hear (or rather see) these words from me now.

What I have seen you accomplish--as a pilot, as a leader, as yourself--in the past day has removed all doubt from my mind. You have changed, Allura, but the essential core of you has remained--and for that I am glad. You have displayed every skill a good captain should have, and then some. I was in awe of you. I still am.

When all this is over, I want permission to train you in Black Lion, if I still have that right (I'm sure Sven will understand). I think you know that I can't stay on Arus, at least not for now; I have responsibilities to the other Voltron Force. And you have all moved beyond the point where I am needed. You have become a coherent Force of your own, and for that I am proud of you beyond words.

Words also cannot convey the honor and gratitude I feel in being allowed the privilege of serving with you and the rest of the Voltron Force. It has been the greatest experience of my life. As for what you yourself have given me, Allura, I can only hope you can read my mind, for there are no words.

I think I've rambled on long enough. You'll wake up soon, and I want to be done with this so I can give all my attention to you. I hope I will be able to say these words to you in person, instead of letting you merely read them.

Keith

She now knew that the strange energy she had felt before Keith took off had been a warning, a warning from deep within, a primal intuition that they were standing on a precipice, and with a single move they could plunge into the darkness. She had ignored the feeling, chosen not to think about what was coming next; it was in the hands of Fate, after all. Or was that just an excuse? Had she been too afraid to contemplate the fact that she might never see him again?

Fate . . . or fear? Which of them has been moving us all along? Is that why all this has happened—because we were too frightened to choose? To recognize the signs and confront them?

Allura's fingers tightened around the paper; helpless grief was stirring, the childish urge to wail and curse the beings that had taken Keith away from her. She'd worked so hard to suppress it, to behave bravely and not go to pieces--because Keith wouldn't have. He would have kept on going, no matter how much he hurt inside, because he had to. Someone had to carry on.

She was that someone.

Now that she was alone again, truly alone--as she hadn't been in her bedroom where everyone knew where she was, or in the graveyard, where the elements could witness her pain--she could open the floodgates. She'd waited a whole year for this; she knew it was important to let her feelings out. To bottle up her grief would only make it harder to bear. She'd waited until after the ceremony, after she had seen all her friends, and they had seen her and been assured she was okay. Now was her time, her time to remember . . .and to grieve . . .

She'd been walking back to the Control room, focusing on each step so as not to think about what they were taking her away from. She'd reached the secondary corridor that led to the main corridor, two hundred feet from the Control Room door--when she'd heard the horrible sound, and the Castle rocked beneath her. She'd stumbled . . . something hit her . . . and the next thing she remembered, she was looking at the sky.

It hadn't seemed odd at first. As a child, she had often lain outside, watching the stars rise and then set. Now, she was watching them set. Dawn was fast approaching; the sky was a brilliant periwinkle, darkening to aqua as the sun, Leonis, approached the horizon.

Then she realized she wasn't lying on the grass beside the Castle; the surface beneath her was hard and cold. She was lying on her side, and she hurt. Especially her head.

Something pricked her eye. She blinked, lifted a hand to protect herself, and felt wetness. Was she crying? No, her fingers came away scarlet. She was bleeding.

It was then that awareness had come back fully. She remembered where she was, and pushed herself to her feet, shaking with fear and shock. Something had happened, something bad, she had to get to the others . . . She stumbled to the Control Room door; when it swooshed open as it always had, she had almost cried.

She had found the others, bruised and bleeding as she was. Lance had been thrown against the wall, and was cradling a broken arm. Cyann sat a few feet away, looking dazed, holding a bleeding shoulder where she'd been hit by a piece of debris. Hunk's face was caked with dust; Pidge's glasses were gone, his naked eyes wide with fear. Sven had been pinned beneath a large chunk of crumbling ceiling; he was severely injured, but alive. Hunk and Pidge were in the process of trying to lift the heavy stone off him. Surrounding them was destruction.

When he saw her, Lance had cried out her name. She'd learned later that she had presented quite a frightful picture; pale as a ghost, and bleeding from a huge gash in her forehead. For a moment, they'd almost believed they were seeing an apparition. They kept asking her if she was okay; she kept asking if Keith was okay. She tried several times before she realized they weren't answering.

It was then she had seen the tears in their eyes.

She didn't remember when she'd heard the story; if it had been Lance or Dr. Gorma, or Cyann who told her the news. The news that Lotor had not waited for Keith to meet him in the air. He had begun attacking the Castle immediately. When Keith had realized what was happening, he had tried to steer his Alpha-One directly in Lotor's path, to force a confrontation. But Lotor was already too close to the Castle to fire on him without damaging the structure . . . So Keith had done the only thing he could do, tried to ram Lotor's ship away from the Castle with his own ship. It was a risky move. Neck and neck, the two ships sped toward the Castle. Keith had waited for the right moment, then wham! He rammed Lotor's ship hard, at an angle designed to send it careening away.

But then Lotor's ship had exploded. By the state of the wreckage discovered, they found that Lotor had burned up his engines in an effort to beat Keith to the Castle; the overtaxed ship had exploded from too much pressure.

And Keith's Alpha-One, only ten feet away from Lotor's larger ship at the time of the explosion, had been engulfed . . .

Allura had taken the news quietly. No fainting fit, screaming or sobbing. She had simply listened, nodded, and bowed her head. She had taken a few deep breaths. Then she had looked up and suggested they had better get Sven to Dr. Gorma. And they needed to check on Koran, still unconscious in the medical bay. And once that was done, they'd have to find out if everyone else was okay: Nanny, the castle staff and servants . . . And then a salvage team would have to be deployed the search the wreckage for survivors, however unlikely . . .

There was so much to be done . . . someone had to take charge.

That was how she'd gotten through that day, hour by hour, keeping herself busy and occupied with seeing to the welfare of others. Having people to take care of kept her from acknowledging her own wound. If anyone asked how she was doing, if she needed anything, she changed the subject. She'd accepted a towel for her bleeding forehead (from another chunk of ceiling that had fallen when the sky opened up above her) but refused all else. Her needs could be put on hold for now . . . for a while . . . perhaps indefinitely.

Now, sitting in the Black Lion, fists clenched, Allura knew she could wait no longer; the weight of the burden she'd been carrying was pressing down on her. She felt the ache of her loss; it bent her double in the pilot's seat, crying tears that almost choked her. Her heart finally shrieked her pain, her agony, her despair, all the emotions she'd been forced to subdue those long months. She made no sound, but in Keith's Lion-- now her Lion--she mourned his death with every cell in her body.

She didn't know how long it had been when her breath returned to her, and she was able to sit up, scrub the tears off her face, feel her pounding heart return to normal. Though it could only have been a few minutes, she found she was surprised to find herself still sitting in the Black Lion. She felt exhausted, but cleansed. The suffocating anger at what had happened had been bled out of her. She would not nurse hatred; she would not curse Fate. She would simply go on, because she could. Because being strong was the only thing left to do.

"Allura?"

She started out of her reverie at the sound of Sven's voice. He was leaning over the open hatch, which she'd forgotten to close, looking concerned.

"Are you all right?" he asked in his quiet way.

"Yes, yes, I am, now," Allura answered, reaching up to wipe the residue of her tears away. "I'm sorry, I know it's not really my Lion yet--"

"It most certainly is," Sven countered, easing himself gingerly into cockpit. He was still quite sore from the injuries he had sustained during the collapse. "The Black Lion has been yours ever since you started training in it."

Allura stared at him in confusion. Sven permitted himself a small pained smile.

"You didn't know that Keith made a few special modifications to the Black Lion?" he asked. "Such as safety precautions as to who was enabled to fly it?"

"What?" Allura was taken aback. "I know he would hardly let anyone aside from him near it, but I didn't know he went that far. How long have you known?"

"He explained it to me before I took over as captain," Sven explained. "He said it had begun as a simple safety catch, in case his Lion was stolen by Doom--or by anyone else."

Allura felt a blush of chagrin as she recalled the one time she had attempted to fly the Black Lion without telling anyone. She remembered very well how angry Keith had been.

"He did that because of me?" she asked sheepishly.

"Not specifically because of you. But that incident," and Sven had obviously heard about it, "made him think. Should someone try to steal the Lion, he didn't want it to respond to them. He programmed it to request a special code at startup that only he knew. However, he realized that he had to have a backup access code in an emergency situation. In short, he programmed access codes for both me and you."

"For me?" Allura blurted. "Way back then? In those days he barely let me near the thing!"

Sven smiled again, remembering fondly. "He would barely let me near it; he was quite protective, but with good reason: the Black Lion holds the secret of Voltron. He didn't want anyone else to be able to exploit his Lion--or Voltron--into attacking anyone."

"But why me?" Allura pressed. "You, I understand. He trusted you, you were his second-in-command. But I had just begun to pilot when that happened. How could he have known that I would ever get good enough--" She stopped, putting a hand to her mouth as disobedient tears filled her eyes again. "No, it's not possible."

Sven nodded seriously. "Yes it is. Did you never wonder why he drove you so hard?"

"I thought it was because I hadn't trained at the Academy like the rest of you."

"Well, partly, yes. But he also wanted you to realize your potential."

"No," Allura said, her mind rebelling. "If you'd told me he did it because I was the ruler of Arus and had a right to Voltron's secret, I'd believe you. But this..." Words failed her. For so many years she'd brainwashed herself into believing she was inferior to the team, and had worked that much harder because of it. But to hear, now, that Keith had always believed in her potential, even when she hadn't, was almost too much to bear.

Sven fell silent as he noticed her reaction. "Does it bother you to hear this? I thought he would have told you."

"He did," Allura whispered, fighting for control. "In a way, he did. But I didn't realize..."

He couldn't have--oh, he couldn't have anticipated--

She had to look away from Sven to hide her emotion.

"Was I wrong to tell you?" Sven sounded genuinely concerned.

"No, it's just . . . it's been quite a day."

"That it has. Speaking of which, allow me convey my deepest respect and salutations to my new commander." In an attempt to lighten the mood, he gave a Galaxy Garrison salute followed by a courtly bow.

It was such an absurd sight, that the laugh bubbled out of Allura before she knew it was coming. "Don't start! I'll never be able to keep a straight face. Keith didn't make you do that, did he?"

"I daresay he would have been insulted. He'd have thought I was mocking him."

That certainly sounded like Keith. "Well," she replied, turning serious again, "you don't have to bow to me anymore. I've made my choice."

Sven nodded. "With respect--sir," he added pointedly, "I was sent to fetch you. Koran would like you to begin preparing for the ceremony."

Allura rose out of the pilot's seat and stretched the stiffness out of her body. "All right, I'm going. Lead me to the altar, I'm ready to be sacrificed."

Sven smiled at her jest, but his eyes remained serious and sad. Like everyone else who knew her well, he was both awed and unnerved by the change in Princess Allura since the accident; her joking words about sacrifice had a bitter tinge that still stung. She's been through so much already, he thought. Whatever else the universe has in store for her should be simple in comparison.

            Allura had finished dressing for the public ceremony and was going over the speech she had prepared when there was another knock at her door. "Come in," she called.

            It was Nanny, looking a little older and somewhat anxious. "Princess, I am sorry to interrupt, but you simply must come with me. She's crying again."

            Thoughts of the speech and tonight's ceremony flew out of Allura's head. "I'm coming."

            She followed Nanny out the door and down the hallway to what had been her childhood playroom, now transformed into a nursery. With every step she took, Allura felt a calmness spreading over her. The thought of what awaited her in the next room pushed everything else she had been through that day to the backburner. This was a part of herself that had been untouched by the tragedy; this was an oasis within the desert of suffering she had endured. She was not Captain Alielyonne here; she was just Allura. And that was enough. Her general weariness from the events of the day were already renewing with a fresh burst of energy.

            The source of that energy was whimpering plaintively in the elaborate cradle draped in satin. Two ladies-in-waiting were standing by, looking harried.

            "She's been fussy all day, Your Majesty," one of them stammered.

            Allura was at the cradle in a heartbeat, scooping the three-month-old infant into her arms and holding her tightly. "Oh, sweetie, it's okay, everything's okay. I'm here, honey." Cuddling the baby girl to her breast, she turned back to Nanny, gently rocking back and forth. The infant's cries quieted almost instantly. "I should have known all this commotion today would upset her. She's restless from all this activity. Maybe it would be better if we left her out of the ceremony tonight. She's so young."

            "We cannot, Your Majesty," Nanny said stubbornly. "Lyona--

            "Princess Lyona," her mother corrected.

            "--is your heir and she must be recognized, whether or not--" the matronly nurse stopped herself.

            Allura gave Nanny the faintest of frowns, still absorbed in cosseting Lyona. "I thought this discussion was over, Nanny."

            The older woman looked ready to protest, but something in Allura's eyes stopped her. "I will not discuss this any further, Nanny," Allura said, her soft tone hardened with an edge of steel. "Her father may not have been a prince, but I will not have her legitimacy called into question. And that is that."

            "I did not mean it that way," Nanny explained, looking hurt. "I only meant that for that very reason it is doubly important for her to be presented this evening. Arus must know its new Princess."

            Allura met her nurse's eyes in a silent gesture of thanks. "Forgive me, Nanny; I'm not myself today."

            "No, indeed, I hardly recognize you," the other woman replied softly. "You're not my little girl anymore."

            Allura smiled at her old nurse. "Don't be so melancholy; you've got a brand-new little girl to spoil right here."

            Someone discreetly cleared their throat. Allura turned to see Hunk, Pidge, Lance and Sven standing in the doorway to the nursery, looking nervous at this threshold of feminine power. "Is it time?" she asked, nodding for them to enter.

            Lance nodded, straightening his unruly hair. "Finally, yes. How's Her Royal Highness?"

            "Restless. I think she knows something's going on tonight."

            "Probably wants to be in the thick of it, like her old man," Hunk grinned. Though he loved children, he was generally nervous around babies. But he adored Lyona as much as everyone else did. "No sitting on the sidelines for her."

            Allura grinned back and surrendered baby Lyona to Nanny, reaching out once to stroke her daughter's tear-stained, petal-like cheek. Every time, it was hard to leave her.

            Lyona, already used to visits from the Voltron Force, blinked her big brown eyes sleepily. Keith's eyes. Allura felt the familiar pang in her throat, the one that threatened to overwhelm her every time she looked at her daughter.

            Their daughter.

            Her first morning sickness had come roughly three months after the crash. She hadn't known what it was; she'd attributed it to exhaustion stemming from working day and night to repair the damage that Lotor's ship had done to the Castle. She'd been working so hard to keep her pain at bay; it was not until she'd fainted one afternoon that anyone had noticed how tired she was. When Dr. Gorma told her she was pregnant she hadn't believed him at first. She had been afraid to. It was too much to hope for; she believed she had none left.

            Then she had cried, really cried for the first time since Keith's death, thanking every god and goddess she could think of. Keith was not to remain gone from her forever. This news, coupled with the note she had found in her pocket only a few weeks before, was the greatest blessing she could have received.

            Koran and Nanny were understandably shocked at first, but gradually came to accept and anticipate the approaching birth of Lyona. The Voltron Force's response had been more emotional; they too had been shaken by loss of their friend and captain, and the news that his child was to be born elicited mixed reactions. Pidge, even at nearly seventeen, had worked hard to conceal his tears. Hunk had not bothered. Lance had picked her up and swung her around joyously until Nanny shrieked concern for the unborn child. They had all hugged her and promised to take extra-good care of her until the baby was born.

            But despite her elation at her pregnancy, Allura had not let it stop her from asking Sven to begin training her in Black Lion. She was determined to fulfill Keith's final wish: to fly Black Lion and become captain in her own right. When her condition began to prevent her from flying, she read all she could on engineering, aerodynamics, flight strategy, technique, anything she thought might be useful; Lance, Hunk, Pidge and Sven had all recommended a few texts from their own training days. Once Lyona was born, as soon as she was able to get up and about, Allura had intensified her training and preparations. She would not sully Keith's memory with imperfection. She would do his spirit--and their daughter--proud.

            Now, the day had finally arrived. She was captain, by her own merits. She had completed the metamorphosis she had dreamed of. And she had learned something important: it was necessary to survive, to endure the most paralyzing tragedy, in order to emerge all the stronger for it. Keith's endurance had been forged as a boy, losing his entire family in a sudden, unprovoked attack. It had hardened him; after that debilitating pain, nothing could have fazed him. He had grown into an incredible soldier because of it.

            Her own endurance had been forged not by his death, but by Lyona's birth. She had wondered, in a few, isolated, haunted moments during those first awful days, why she had not died in the collapse the Castle of Lions. Why that chunk of ceiling had only slashed her forehead and not shattered her skull. Why she had been the one to live while Keith had died.

            That answer was clear to her now.

            Keith had said he was in awe of her. Well, she would do all she could to be worthy of that honor, even if he was no longer there to bestow it upon her. He'd said he knew she had it in her, deep down. Well, she would prove that from this day forward. In his memory, she'd strive to fulfill his belief in her. She'd make him proud, even if it had to be beyond the grave.

            She knew that the ache of Keith's memory would never truly go away, just as the pain of losing her father never had, but she'd learn to function around it. She'd make herself stronger because of it, for Lyona. There was an Earth saying: whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

            Well, Allura thought, I'm not dead yet. And whatever comes next should be a cinch.

            And what memories she had! They'd dared to reach for their dreams; they'd worked hard, and been granted them. Briefly, they'd burned with the fire of a hundred stars. But there had been a price, and that was price was transience. They'd shared more than some couples had in a lifetime, but their own small eternity had been concentrated into a few short years. At the age of twenty-three, she'd known more passion than others her age dreamed of. And that was a precious gift.

            I won't forget you, Keith, Allura promised, taking one last look at their daughter's beautiful eyes. From this day onward, all I do is in memory of what you have given me.

THE END